Some Secrets Hurt Too Much to Share
by Gandalf3213
Summary: Everyone has secrets. Chad Danforth has been hiding one ever since his mother died, and it's starting to tear his life apart. Soon, he's pushing everyone away, and his friends have to figure out how to help him before he drowns.
1. Laughing Keeps You Sane

**A/N: I know, I said I was done with High School Musical. But that was months ago, before I realized my school was doing it for their spring play, so now I'm around it 24/7 and I found a couple more stories that need to be told. **

Chad tried to smile at Troy's joke, but his mind was a hundred miles away. Actually, it was more like two. His house. His small house on the wrong side of town with his abusive alcoholic father.

"Chad! Hello? Earth to Chad!"

He looked up, suddenly aware that he had been asked a question by a very aggravated Zeke. "Sorry dude, what'd you say?"

Zeke rolled his eyes but repeated the question, slower this time. "I asked you what time you were going to be there. Saturday? The carnival?"

The spring carnival was something that had been occurring in Albuquerque since Chad's great-grandfather was born, and probably before that. It was a chance to go on corny rides and eat horrible food and spend twenty bucks trying to win a stupid bear for a girl. It was the best thing that happened all year.

"I don't know when I'll be there." Chad asked, quickly calculating in the factors of his girlfriend and his father. "Sometime around two, I guess." The game was early ― ten o'clock in the morning.

Troy closed the door to his locker, pulling over his shirt at the same time. "You ready yet, Chad?"

Chad and Tory had walked home together from basketball practice since the beginning. It was the only way not to have Coach Bolton drive them home. And since Troy only lived twelve blocks away from Chad, it was a logical decision. Except that Chad lived six blocks away from The Line.

In a town as big as Albuquerque, there was bound to be a good side of town and a not-so-good side of town. There really was no difference, just a difference in money. At least that's what the public officials wanted them to think. In actuality, there was a huge difference ― schooling, families, gangs. The only reason Chad was allowed to go to East High was because he knew how to play basketball. He was one of the first people from the west end of town to go there.

Walking home, Chad got caught up in a conversation with Troy about who was better, Gabriella or Taylor. It didn't get very far, because Troy was blushing every four seconds, but damn, it was funny. They were laughing by the time they got to Troy's street.

"See you man." Said Chad, still walking, laughing to himself.

"Chad!" Troy called him back. Chad turned around and looked at him. "Is there anything wrong, Chad? You seemed...distracted."

The look of worry on Troy's face was so different from the smile that had been there a second ago. Chad tried to look nonchalant when he said. "Naw Troy, you know. Just stuff. Just life."

Troy still looked skeptically at Chad, his brows furrowed in the middle as he watched his friend walk away, massaging a large bump on the back of his neck.

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	2. Home is Where the Heart is?

**I don't own it. Sorry. **

Chad glanced at the clock as he got into the house. It had just slid to six o'clock. It hadn't seemed that late. He guessed that practice had gone over.

His father _should_ be coming home soon. He got out of work at 5:30 and he worked twenty minutes away. If he were a normal dad, he would have picked up some dinner for the two of them, seeing that their fridge and cabinets were completely empty except for a few stray beers.

His father wasn't normal. Though he got out of work at 5:30, it wasn't unusual for him to stumble into the house at one in the morning either singing at the top of his voice of yelling curses that Chad had never heard before. Chad preferred the singing.

If he was a normal father, he might care that this was the sixth night in a row that there was no dinner. Chad had stopped re-filling the cabinets himself about seventh grade, because anything he put in there would be gone by morning and it was eating up all his allowance. So Chad ate at his friend's houses, or stopped and got himself a burger, or saved something from lunch.

Chad took out his homework, brushing away the green bottle on the table and laying down his Geometry book. He concentrated on complementary angles for as long as he could with his growling stomach before putting the textbook away and taking out the worn copy of _A Separate Peace_ that he was reading for English.

Chad crashed on the couch, opening up the book to the spot he had left off, just after Phineas got back to Devon. He loved the book, as he liked most well-written novels. It made sense. It had a message that had a point. He could get into the characters heads and see what they were thinking.

He read late into the night, not noticing the passage of time as he slipped deeper and deeper into the story. H couldn't exactly remember where the story ended and the dream began, and Chad would certainly have not known the difference had it not been for the loud bang that startled him out of his sleep.

He looked up through bleary eyes and saw his father, a two-day beard growing on his long, pointed face and eyes big and dark making him look half-menacing, half-delirious. He was shouting tonight.

Chad immediately regretted his decision of sleeping on the couch instead of in his bed. It made him a much larger target. Usually, he would lie awake with a pillow over his head, hoping that he dad would forget he had a son. Now he definitely remembered Chad.

"You stupid ―" was all Chad heard as he stood petrified, frozen to the ground. He dared not move or talk or even avert his eyes from the huge, bear-like mass that stood in front of him. Maybe tonight was only yelling.

The first punch came after a series of very loud, slurred sentences about his mother, her parents, and all his ancestors up to Adam and Eve. Chad didn't' let out a whimper, tried not to move as the blows rained down on him again and again. He only put up his hand to protect his nose, which had already been broken twice by a blow from this man.

The beating didn't last long. It never really did. After a night at the bar, his father would be too tired to even stay on his feet very long. From his position on the floor, Chad saw his dad stumble up the steps, still half-yelling jumbled words at no-one.

He stayed on the floor a long time, shaking. Slowly, he moved his arm, wincing in pain as he heard a _crack_ of the two joints separating. Next came his legs and neck. Nothing seemed broken, though he had a long gash on his arm from his fathers ring and multiple bruises and welts.

Slowly, Chad made his way up the stairs, grabbing the largest band-aid from the medicine cabinet on the way to his room. He sat on the edge of his bed, laying the band-aid over the cut, which was leaking large, red blood drops. He was still shaking ten minutes later, when he finally laid down, trying to make no noise.

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	3. You Gotta Have Friends

**I don't own it you know**

His eyes flew open at five thirty. Chad never needed an alarm clock; he always woke up exactly when he wanted to. He got out of bed, grabbing his clothes and heading for the bathroom.

He didn't recognize the boy in the mirror. Chad groaned, watching as his reflection moved along with him. How was he supposed to hide this one? Bruises covered one side of his face, including a brilliantly purple and black eye. The other side had the cut, with blood that had soaked through the band-aid and dried along the edges. He tore it off and turned on the water, getting into the shower.

Chad toweled off gently ten minutes later. He winced every time the cloth went over another sore spot, some from the night before but most of them older. He pulled on his shirt and grabbed another band-aid from the medicine cabinet before heading downstairs.

On the way out the door Chad grabbed his backpack which was sitting on the table. He closed the door quietly then took off at a gentle jog down the street. He usually ran in the morning. It helped clear his mind as his thoughts slowed down the most basic level. He ran until he passed the invisible line that separated the West from the East side.

Two blocks past this line was a short white building with a basketball court visible from the street. Chad went up the driveway and rang Troy's doorbell, letting himself in as he had done every morning since seventh grade.

"Hello Chad," Mrs. Bolton barely looked up from the plate of bacon she was taking out of the oven. "You're just in time for ― Chad, what's wrong?" She laid the pan of bacon on the counter before crossing over to Chad, who was putting his backpack on the floor. Coach Bolton looked up at his wife from over the newspaper.

Chad did his best not to jerk away when Mrs. Bolton touched his face, her hands skimming over the bruises and cuts. "It's nothing Mrs. B." he assured her, thinking, _you should see the rest of me._

"How're you doing Chad?" Troy leapt over the banister, landing perfectly in front of the darker boy. He too did a double-take. "Wow. Who's been messing with your face?"

Chad attempted a smile. "It's not a big deal. A couple guys went a little crazy last night. Nothing I couldn't handle."

Troy looked disconcerted, and Chad almost had to laugh. Anything to mess up Basketball Boy's perfect world. "You sure you're alright?"

"I'm _fine_." Chad blinked blood out of his eye. The cut had opened up again. He looked at the bacon on the counter and heard his stomach rumble, a reminder that he hadn't eaten dinner the night before. "Can I have a couple sliced of bacon, please?"

The breakfast went without any hitch, though Chad could see Troy sending him worried glances every two minutes. At seven o' clock the boys went out the door, yelling back at Coach Bolton for the hundredth time that they did _not_ want a ride.

The school was barely a mile away, and the athletic boys covered the distance easily. About four blocks from East High Troy stopped and turned around, blocking Chad's path. "Who hurt you?"

Chad attempted to push Troy out of the way. "I told you, it was a couple of stupid goons. I could've taken them if it was a fair fight."

Troy didn't look convinced. "This is the third time this **month** that you've been hurt Chad."

He was getting annoyed now, tried to push Troy out of the way. "It's different on my side of town, Troy. Things like this happen, just drop it."

He finally got passed the slightly shorter boy and ran ahead, flying into the school as soon as the bell rang. He knew that Troy just wanted to look out for him and he was touched by his concern but sometimes he really didn't know when to back out.

First period was English. It wasn't until Chad sat down that he remembered he'd left his book on the couch.

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	4. Order Up

**I don't own it. Nope**

"Hey Chad," A hand touched his shoulder, putting pressure on exactly the wrong spot and causing Chad to barely bite back an exclamation of pain.

He turned around, saw who it was, and gently kissed Taylor for the first time in two weeks. "Hey girl, how was Romania?"

She laughed quietly, running her fingers through his hair and looking into his eyes in a way that made Chad feel that she knew his very soul. "We went to _Rome_, and yes, it was a great trip." She kissed him again. "I was worried about you. I missed you too much."

Taylor leaned back, scrutinizing Chad's face. She traced the bruises on his face with one finger so lightly he would have sworn it was a butterfly.

"What happened?" Taylor's voice was so honestly worried that Chad almost told her. He probably would have if he hadn't been asked the same question twelve times that day. "Nothing," he snapped, instantly regretting it when he saw the look of hurt on Taylor's face.

"Let's get out of here. Swing by Joe's or something. Watch the carnival come up." He was anxious to get out of school. He was grateful there was no basketball practice ― fewer people to stare at him, to ask him _what happened._

On the way down the hall, the two of them turned into four when Troy and Gabriella joined them. In the commons area Zeke showed up with Sharpay, with Ryan trailing after her, dateless but still smiling.

They all agreed to go to Joe's, a small pizzeria owned and operated by Joey Scalara who had graduated from East High three years before. He was a good guy to hang out with, often giving them advice about girls ('_who knows what's going on in there'_) school ('_keep with it until you can stop getting by with basketball')_ and sometimes giving them free pies and cokes if they had won a game.

They walked in as a group, laughing, like they had so many other days after school. Joe himself was behind the counter. He didn't have to look up to see who it was. "Hey guys, there's a table in the back. Pepperoni and Pineapple?" The combination was the only one that appealed to everybody, even if it was strange.

Not fifteen minutes later the pizza was ready. Joe brought it over with a two large pitchers of Coke. He looked around at the group sitting there, noticing something was out of place. "What happened, Chad? Got on the wrong side of a fist?"

Chad tried to smile and blow it off, though he could see everyone's eyes on him. "Yeah, something like that."

Taylor, sensing an awkward conversation, lead a too-spirited discussion with Gabriella about a thing they had seen in Rome. The rest of the group willingly jumped on the conversation.

Except for Troy. He was looking at Chad with something else in his eye. He could sense Chad trying to push them all out of this. He didn't want to go.

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	5. Close Encounters

**I own it not.**

They watched the preparations for the carnival begin, standing for two hours in the park, pointing out different rides and booths to each other, laughing and pushing and talking until the voices mingled together.

Then everyone started drifting. Ryan and Sharpay at five thirty for some drama thing. Gabriella, followed soon after by Taylor, left for a study party. Six thirty came and went. Chad didn't want to go home. There was nothing for him there.

"Hey, Chad, you know you can always crash at my place." Chad could hear the uncertainty in Troy's voice, like he was afraid Chad would strike out at him again.

He forced a smile, "Thanks, but it's fine. There's just...no reason to go home, you know?"

Even though Troy nodded _yes_, Chad knew that his friend couldn't relate to what he was going through. He didn't even know.

For the hundredth time that day, Chad wanted to tell someone. Let someone else carry the burden. Then he looked at Troy, still gazing worriedly at Chad's face, and knew he'd never understand.

Some secrets hurt too much to share, even with a best friend.

It started getting dark at seven thirty. Chad sadly watched the sun go down, feeling the air start to cool from the balmy day. Troy looked at his watch, then at Chad, then down the street. Chad smiled, took the hint, and started walking.

They didn't talk. Chad was grateful for the silence. It left him time to try to figure things out.

Was Troy catching on? A couple of times, Chad was sure that Troy must know, or at least guess. But he hadn't ever known anything like that. Troy probably didn't even believe that things like that could exist. His own parents were so...perfect. Nothing could shake Troy out of his perfect world.

They passed Troy's house. He gave an awkward wave as he went up the short driveway. Chad kept walking, but he had the feeling that Troy was watching him until he turned the corner.

He walked to his house. A slow, slouching walk that he used by habit when he got to "his" side of town. Most kids were looking for an excuse to jump people anyway, and Chad already had a price on his head for going to East High. Tonight was almost quiet though, and Chad walked through his front door within a matter of minutes

"Close the door!" his father barked at him, cursing when he didn't do it quick enough.

Chad ducked his head and tried to hurry past his dad, who was sitting sullenly at the table drinking what seemed to be his third beer.

"Get over here, boy!" The voice itself made Chad cringed as he stumbled in front of his father, dropping his backpack in the doorway. "I got a call earlier. Seems that some of the teachers think I'm not treating you right here. You been telling lies?"

Chad shook his head no, not able to lift his eyes up to his father's.

"Then where did they get that idea?" He said softly, his hand gripping Chad's wrist. Not waiting for an answer he continued. "You think you're bein' treated unfairly?"

Chad drew back, the stench of alcohol on his father's breath making him sick. He tried to sort out the slurred words, finally coming to the right conclusion. "No, sir."

The hand gripping his wrist momentarily tightened, then let him go. "Get out of my sight you worthless pig."

Chad didn't need telling twice. Without a backwards glance at his father he picked up his backpack and scampered up the stairs.

While he was doing his homework Chad noticed a bruise on his wrist. It was the perfect outline of four fingers and a thumb.

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	6. Still Life

**So I don't own it...**

Friday. Chad thought the only good thing about Fridays were that they came before Saturday. It was the unofficial start of the weekend ― but not until school let out.

Classes were a drag. Chad had woken up that morning to a throbbing headache and a very purple wrist. He took three aspirin before going to school but by third period he found that that hadn't been enough.

Troy had been giving him those looks all day. The kind that said "we need to talk" without really knew what they wanted to talk about. Troy was the one keeping Chad awake during class, when his pounding head was calling for a nap. Sharp jabs in the back where the only things that saved him when a question was asked.

Another rotten thing about that day was that his bruises had swollen ― a natural first step in the healing, but it made then even more noticeable than before. Chad could sense lee-then-friendly whispers trailing him down the hall.

It wasn't like the day was a whole loss though. Having Taylor back was a plus in Chad's case. During lunch, he managed to break out of his lull just long enough to join the guys in their conversation.

"Dudes, what about the game tomorrow? Are we going to kick butt or what?" Jason was practically in the air with excitement. Any other day Chad would have joined him, and he did manage to nod and smile and cheer with the others.

"Yeah, we'll totally beat the Knights down. What's their record anyway? Like, four-zero?" Troy was exaggerating, he knew it, but he cast an anxious look at Chad and was glad to see him smile, though briefly.

Zeke looked worried. He was always the most practical of the bunch. "I don't know guys. I mean, the Knights aren't that bad. And with Ch―" he glanced at his friend's face, which was clearly saying 'don't even go there' "With Casey out with that leg thing we're really going to have to boast it up on defense." Zeke looked around, hoping none of the boys had noticed his slip.

Chad leaned back, trying to look unconcerned. "Zeke, you worry too much. We'll do fine. The Knights are nothing compared to us." He looked around. "And even if they do beat us, we'll still have the carnival, right?" He looked over at his girlfriend, who had momentarily stopped talking to Gabriella and gave her a quick kiss.

"Yeah. Listen guys," Troy suddenly remembered. "Coach wanted to know if we were going to do that demo thing again. Like last year?"

"A chance to show off? I'm there." Chad looked around and got support from everybody.

Troy smiled. "I knew you would want to. It's at one-thirty on the court. Bring your practice jersey."

Lunch went on the demo was forgotten amidst other subjects ― who was going with who, who was failing what...the normal stuff.

Practice after school gave Chad a release. The pain ebbed as he shot basket after basket getting into a smooth, even rhythm. They were finally let out a six o' clock, with threats of things worse then death if they weren't at the gym at exactly eight o' clock the next day.

Chad was laughing as he came out of the locker room, a group of about five walking in the same general direction. Their numbers slowly dwindled as they walked closer to The Line until finally it was only Chad and Troy. "I'll see you tomorrow." Chad said hurriedly as they reached Troy's house. He was not ready for a confrontation.

The pain was back as Chad walked into his house. All the lights were on and Chad could hear his father and a couple of other guys in the living room, laughing and yelling and throwing things at the television and at each other. He ducked into the room to grab some food and managed to escape, but not before a number of heavy objects were thrown at him by blurry, laughing faces.

Quickly eating his prize, Chad hurried up to his room. There he realized he had a number of holes in his shirt, accompanied by more bruises and cuts of his back and abdomen. "Just what I need." He muttered as he took out his battered pair of headphones and CD player.

He managed to drown out the noise downstairs, left with only his music, which echoed the pulse of his aching body.

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	7. The NoGood Very Bad Day

**I own it..not.**

Chad woke up at seven o'clock. He was feeling great for the first time in a week. Except for the new sores on his back that were quietly throbbing, nothing hurt. He smiled. Today was going to be a good day.

He rummaged through drawers looking for his uniform, laying it on the bed as he got some bandages from the bathroom. He laid them over his back, covering up the worst of the bruises and cuts before putting on his uniform.

Chad went down the stairs, going into the kitchen. Nobody was home; he figured his dad had gone out the night before after he'd gone upstairs. Chad smiled, he preferred it this way.

He grabbed a water bottle, aware that it was seven thirty. If he didn't get out of there quick Coach would kill him.

Chad jogged down the street, looking up at the clear blue sky. It was perfect weather for a fair, about seventy degrees and not humid. He headed for the school.

East High was three miles from Chad's house. He got to the gym at seven fifty-nine, going into the locker room with Coach's eyes on his back. He quickly stripped his worn tennis sneakers and got out a pair of equally worn basketball shoes. They were, as he often told the boys on his team, his lucky shoes. He could make just about any basket in them.

Though the game wasn't until ten, they went over drills and plays until x's and o's swam in front of Chad's eyes. They preformed a light scrimmage for twenty minutes where Chad found that his good day extended to the basketball court. Every shot he took he made.

"Okay guys." Coach Bolton said, looking them all in the eye. They were back in the locker room, just before the game was set to start. "You're ready. You're more then ready. You keep focused and work together, you'll blow through this team easily." The boys nodded, faces set.

As Chad walked out onto the court, he was aware that more people then usual turned out for this game. It happened every year, almost a tradition in Albuquerque. The annual carnival didn't really get started until noon, so everyone would show up at the basketball game.

Chad grinned as he walked to the center circle. This is what he lived for. This moment just before the start of the game when the energy was so high you could feel it dripping off people like sweat. He looked the boy across from him in the eye and winked. The ball was thrown into the air.

The game was wonderful. The Wildcats couldn't go wrong. Time after time they'd drive down, either going in for an easy lay-up or circling the ball around until an opportunity arose. On defense they stole the ball before the Knights had a chance to put it on the ground. By two minutes before the end of the game the Wildcats were up by more then thirty points.

Chad had a clear lane to the basket. He ducked an arm and went up, stretching his arms in perfect form. Then a body came out of nowhere, and Chad crumpled. He skidded across the floor until his body slammed into the wall of the gym.

Chad looked up blearily, his ears ringing. Troy was in front of him, his face a mixture of fear and anger. Chad looked past Troy and saw Jason being pulled away from another boy by Coach Bolton. "You okay, Chad?"

Chad forced himself to look at Troy and tried to smile, though it turned out more like a grimace. "Yeah, I'm fine." He tried to move and arched his back in pain. Troy helped him up and together they went into the locker room.

Troy left for a moment and returned with a first-aid kit. He went behind Chad, lifting up the jersey and exposing his back. Chad cringed as Troy put a hand on one of the half-healed bruises. "What are all of these from, Chad?" he asked quietly, his hand skimming over Chad's back like a butterfly.

"Their nothing!" Chad snapped, whipping around and lowering his shirt. He saw Troy's hurt face but found he didn't care. His great day was rapidly disappearing.

The buzzer rang for the end of the game and Chad found himself not wanting to face the rest of the team. He picked up his tennis shoes. "See you at the demo." He muttered to Troy, taking off down the hallway.

He was out of the school when he realized that he didn't have his practice jersey. He glanced at his watch ― only eleven thirty. He had more then enough time to run back to his house and get the jersey. Maybe even take a few aspirin to stop his pounding head.

Chad jogged the few miles back to his house, going slowly because of his now-very-sore back. He went inside, cringing as the door slammed behind him. He started up the stairs then stopped dead.

Waiting at the top of the stairs, eyes wild and frightening, was his father.

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	8. Free Falling

**I own nothing.**

Chad started back down the steps. A jersey was not worth another confrontation with his father. He had bruises to show from the last one.

"Get up here!" Chad cowered when he heard the roar but obeyed without question. He went back up the steps, stopping just short of the last one. He looked up at his father, saw the fire in his eyes, and gulped. He wished, not for the first time, that his mother was still alive. Or that his father didn't drink. Or that he (Chad) would have the guts to stand up to him.

Instead, they stood there, eyes locked. Chad was tensing his body, one muscle at a time. He would be ready, he had already sworn that to himself.

The swing came, straight at Chad's face. He turned slightly, taking the blow in his cheek. His head snapped backwards with the force.

There were yells echoing in his head, though he couldn't tell if they were his or his fathers. Another punch came, in the stomach.

He was drifting now, whether of his free will or because of the pain Chad couldn't tell. He usually tried to detach his mind during times like these. It was the easiest way to get through it.

Pain clouded his senses. He could feel blood trickling down his face, taste the salty, metallic taste in his mouth. He tried to grasp hold of something, anything.

A face burst through, as clear in his mind as though she were standing right there. Taylor, looking slightly alarmed but still loving, as she had earlier in the week. Another face, Troy, very confused, worried, about him, of all people. More faces ― Zeke, Jason, Coach Gabriella...

Chad didn't feel the punch to his chest. He wasn't aware of an arm grabbing his, possibly to stop him from falling down the stairs. He didn't hear the pop or the cry of surprise when his shoulder dislocated. He didn't feel himself crashing to the floor, stairs getting in his way, his body rolling over and over.

Chad wasn't aware of slipping into unconsciousness. The last thing he saw was the clock. One fifteen. He'd let his team down again.

Chad was dreaming. He knew it was a dream because his mom was there, and she was crying. He tried to reach out for her, but as he got closer, she drifted further and further away. He heard a scream, felt his whole body shake. A voice said, "Chad!"

Chad woke up, the pain coming back full force. He bit his lip to keep from screaming but a low moan escaped. He couldn't sit up, he couldn't move at all. More pain flooded his senses and one logical thought made it through.

"Am I dying?"

Somebody was next to him, shaking him, sending more spasms of pain down his spine. "Troy..." he moaned, his eyes squeezed shut.

"Yeah, I'm here." Troy moved into his line of view, looking scared and anxious and...was he misinterpreting this?...angry. "Chad...Chad, what happened?"

Chad could only shake his head. He felt himself drifting back towards unconsciousness and welcomed it. Anything to take the pain away. His hand, the one he could move since the other one was strangely numb, groped for Troy's finding it and squeezing it as hard as he could.

He fell back into unconsciousness, seeing tears run down Troy's cheeks. That's how he knew this was a dream, too. Troy never cried, especially not for Chad.

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	9. The Truth

**I own nothing**

Troy had gone to Chad's house after the game. As he walked up the street he noticed a car go past him. In it was Chad's father. That's when Troy started running.

The door was unlocked, and Troy rushed in. The first thing he saw was blood on the steps. Then he saw Chad, and he felt his world collapse.

Troy knelt next to Chad, picking up his arm and searching desperately for a pulse, all the while glancing around the house and noticing the blood. So much blood, pooled on the stairs and settling all around Chad. Was it possible that his friend was still alive?

A weak, erratic pulse surged under Troy's fingers. The tears fell from Troy's eyes. Chad was alive!

A groan from Chad made Troy circle around his friend. He gently moved Chad's head, revealing a broken nose and a black eye. Chad's eyes opened and blinked at Troy.

"Troy?"

"Yeah, I'm here." Troy tried to keep his voice even, but the tears were coming thick and fast now. He blinked them away impatiently. "Chad...oh, Chad...what happened?"

Chad groaned again, his eyes closing. Troy yelled his name, trying to keep him from slipping back into unconsciousness. He felt a hand grab his and held on to Chad's hand, feeling the squeeze.

Troy's mind raced. What was he supposed to do now? Making sure his grip on Chad remained firm, he fumbled for his cell phone. The numbers swam in front of his eyes as he hurriedly punched in the numbers 911.

"What's your emergency?" A swift, female voice answered. Troy managed to choke out the important details, Chad's name and age, his injuries and the address. "Please hurry!" he finished, and the line went dead.

He called his father next, not explaining much. Just telling him that he was going to the hospital with Chad.

The tears were stopping now. Troy supposed it was because there were none left. The feeling after they stopped was one of cold numbness. He felt nothing except for a blinding anger at Chad's father.

Troy groped for his backpack, which he had brought with him. Chad's grip on his hand was firm but he managed to pry his arm away. He'd need it. From his bag Troy extracted bandages that he used when he had an injury in basketball.

Trying to stay calm, Troy went over Chad's bruises, cataloguing them in his mind. His hand skimmed over a dislocated shoulder, a broken ankle, and more then a few gashes on Chad's head, most likely from the fall down the stairs.

"Oh Chad," the tears were back. "Chad, why didn't you tell me?" His hand was in Chad's again, fingers laced together. He leant against the banister, his hand landing in a puddle of Chad's blood. He couldn't do this. It was too much too fast. And Troy cried, the salty tears leaking into his mouth, making his throat burn like fire.

That's where he was when the paramedics came in, firing questions at him. Troy didn't know most of the answers. They lifted Chad, onto a stretcher. Troy walked out with him, their hands still entwined. They got into the ambulance, and Troy found himself praying. He didn't do that often. But right now he was offering everything up to...whoever might be out there, asking him to save Chad.

Because Troy couldn't live without him.

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	10. Crying again

**I own it not.**

The ambulance ride was a blur of noises and shouts, of beeps coming from a machine somewhere to his right. Troy still hugged Chad's hand to his chest, kneeling on the ground, one arm clasped firmly above Chad's elbow. Chad was conscious now, he could tell by the almost painful grip on his arm, but neither boy moved or spoke. Troy's tears had stopped.

The paramedics rushed out of the ambulance faster than Troy could follow. He left the vehicle too, trying to take the same route as the doctors but was turned away, told to go down several hallways to fill out some paperwork.

"My friend's in there!" Troy stormed, angrier than he had ever been. He kept on seeing Chad, lying dead on a table, Chad, his eyes pleading him not to reveal his secret, Chad, laughing at some private joke.

The nurse gently turned him away, her voice firm, "Everyone has a friend in there." Was her cryptic answer. "They're doing everything for him but you must be _patient_."

Troy hated being patient.

He walked slowly down the hallways, a numb feeling spreading through his body. God, this couldn't be happening. It couldn't be. Chad couldn't be hurt, dying, somewhere in the hospital. His father...no, that route was too complex for Troy to take now. He needed something easy.

Troy looked up to find his father running towards him. "Troy, what's wrong?" Troy didn't say a word, just collapsed into his father's arms, his body shaking. "Are you hurt? What happened?"

With a jolt Troy realized that he must have sounded like _he_ was the one who was hurt over the phone. "No, dad, I'm fine." He choked, forcing the words out. "It's Chad, dad. Chad's hurt. Bad."

Mr. Bolton squeezed his son tighter, resting his head on top of Troy's. "What happened? Can you tell me?"

In a halting voice, Troy managed to get out everything that had happened since he and Chad left the court during the game, from the bruises on his back to the blood on the stairs. Troy vaguely wondered why he had blood on his hands and chest, but let that thought go as quickly as it had come.

When he finished, Troy's dad hugged him once again. "Go into the waiting room, Troy, I'll take care of the paperwork. The boys' will want to know what's happened, they were worried about you."

Troy looked through the small area and saw a door on the other side, through the window, the entire Wildcat basketball team was visible, all with somber, confused expressions. "Thanks dad." He muttered, then walked into the room.

The effect was immediate. He was nearly trampled by guys, nearly deafened by shouts of, "Troy, are you okay? Troy, what happened? Troy, where's Chad?"

Troy took a deep breath. "Chad's not doing well, guys. I found him at his house, covered in blood. He's broken a couple of bones and lost a lot of blood. There might be a fracture in his skull. He just have to wait and see."

The room was still, everyone became quiet. Jason asked the first question, his eyebrows drawn together. "Who hurt him?"

The rest of the team nodded eagerly. Troy knew that if he said it was a couple of boys, a gang maybe, the team would not have hesitated to beat the tar out of them, instead he drew in another heavy breath. "It was his father."

Zeke pulled Troy aside a few minutes later when it had calmed down a little. "So his father's the one that's been hurting him all week?" Troy nodded, and Zeke let off a string of curses. Troy looked at him, Zeke was the most...well, he never cursed. Ever.

Troy cast about for a different topic, but everything else seemed stupid in comparison. His stomach flipped as the images came to him once again. Chad on an operating table. Chad dying. Chad lying in a casket, dead.

He didn't realize he was crying, again. But Zeke through an arm over his shoulder, "It'll be okay. Chad will pull through this. Don't worry about it."

And Troy just stood there, crying. Because deep inside he'd always known how Chad was being hurt, and he knew that he was supposed to stop it.

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	11. Love

**I don't own anything.**

Troy was the first one to be allowed into Chad's room. He sat next to him in a hard chair and forced himself to look at his friend.

All his hair was cut off. His beautiful thatch of unruly hair was all gone only to be replaced by a large white bandage through which there was some blood seeping through, much too red against the white bandage and pale dark skin. "Chad?"

Troy's voice seemed to echo around the small room, sounding young and scared even to his own ears. Tears choked his voice again and his hand reached greedily for his friend's, as if by holding it he could take all the pain in his own body, because he could have, without a second thought. If only to see Chad smile again.

"Oh Chad."

His voice was much too young. He bit his lip to keep the tears back and felt a squeeze on his hand, so weak it was barely there. "Chad!" his voice was jubilant and it took all his self-control to keep himself from launching at his best friend.

Chad's face twisted into something might be a smile or a grimace. "Troy." His voice has soft, with a ragged edge to it, but his tone betrayed his compassion, his happiness, his guilt. ""Troy, I'm sorry."

"No, Chad, shh…be quiet." Troy's eyes had tears in them again, this time happy ones. "Don't talk, your throat's hurt. Here, I'll get a nurse." He started to get up, then saw the fear in Chad's eyes.

"Just a few minutes, Troy. Please."

Troy sat back down. He smiled at his friend, trying to lift his spirits.

"Troy, I have to tell you…everything." Chad said, biting his lip. Troy tried to help.

"I know, Chad. I was there. I found you, I know it was your father."

Chad's eyes widened. "That was you…you shouldn't have…I thought…Troy." He bit his lip again. "Listen, I need to tell someone. I've never told the whole story."

And Troy was quiet as Chad told him everything. "My mum died, you remember, in that fire. What nobody knows is that my dad was the one that pulled me out, that he was the one who started the fire in the first place. That he wanted me to die too."

Troy had a million questions, but saw his friend's weariness, even though he'd only been awake a few minutes. It was odd to see Chad, usually so full of energy, about to fall asleep after only a few minutes of conversation.

A hard squeeze on his hand made Troy look down, let him hear the last few words. "Are you going to leave me, Troy?"

"No, Chad. No, of course not. I'm going to take care of you."

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	12. Leaving

**I don't own them.**

They were finally leaving the hospital.

Troy stood behind Chad's wheelchair. They were bringing his to their house temporarily. No one had been able to find his father. Until the courts decided what to do with him, there would be an extended stay with the Boltons'. Neither boy really minded.

The entire basketball team was waiting in the lobby for them. They started screaming when they saw Chad. Taylor ran to kiss him on his bruised mouth. Gabriella situated herself beside Troy, hugging him. Zeke was on the other side. He reached down as if to mess up Chad's already unruly hair, then seemed to remember.

A long, raggedy procession followed them out of the car, where Chad ditched the wheelchair and hopped up, smiling. Troy was sure he wasn't the only one who saw the flicker of pain as one of his feet touched the ground.

"Hey guys, this means a lot to me. Thanks." Chad looked around at each of them, his gaze lingering longer on Troy, Taylor, and Zeke, who had gone to visit him more than once every day and had often been kicked out by the nurses.

Zeke placed a hand on t\Chad's back, one of the few places that had relatively few injuries, and said something very quickly in Spanish. The rest of the team looked at them. Gabriella whispered the translation in Troy's ear.

"He told him, _we'll always be here, brother, always remember._" Troy's mouth twitched. Chad nodded at Zeke and pulled him into a one-armed hug, which was all he could manage with his arm in a sling.

They lingered in the parking lot for another ten minutes. Each person from the team said something to Chad. They had formed a loose circle around him, as if comforting him that he could never be hurt again while they were there.

Troy unobtrusively propped Chad up. He knew that after only five minutes of standing up he go tired, though he would never show it in front of the team. "Ready to go home?" Troy muttered.

Chad turned to him slightly, pain registering on his face. "Do I have a home? I don't belong anywhere."

Troy squeezed him, "You belong with me. With us." The rest of the group had gotten silent, and Jason spoke up, "We love you, Chad."

And Chad smiled. He climbed into the car, smiling at his friends as they pulled out of the hospital parking lot. They could just here Zeke's call, "_Hasta Mañana! _Until Tomorrow!"

**End. Over. Fin. **

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